“Did you bring him home?”
“I never bring men home.”
“Distance from the crime scene.Smart.”
“Crime scene?”
“Your kind rips a guy’s head off after sex.Don’t worry, I won’t turn you in.You’re way too entertaining.”
She sucked the juice from her fingers.“Are you asking me for personal information, Hotshot?”
He groaned.“You’re making daiquiris.”
Sometimes his perceptiveness freaked her out.“How do you know that?”
She hadn’t started the blender yet.
“The strawberry juice on your fingers.”
“Sometimes I think you’re a stalker.”
But her blinds were shut and the desk on the wall by her bedroom door faced out into the room.No cameras on her.
“To stalk you, I’d have to know your name, or what country you live in.”
“It’s against Huddle rules to pressure a user for personal information.”
“Who’s pressuring?”he asked and exhaled.“There’s a high chance I’ll have to have sex this weekend.”
“Don’t pretend you’re not a player,” she said, collecting the rest of her ingredients.“You always do this, pretend you’re not smooth as silk or like dating is a chore.You’re gun-shy and I get why.”
“Can we not talk about Diva tonight?”
“You haven’t talked about her for a while.You know how I feel about you repressing stuff.”
“I told you months ago, Diva’s out of my life.”
“The break-up took its toll.And your feelings—”
“Babe, enough.Mix your daiquiri.Get some alcohol flowing through those veins.”
She put the lid on and did as he said.
When it was done, she retrieved a glass.“It messes with my head.”
“Relationships?I know.Don’t worry, you have to find me before you can jump me.”
“In your dreams,” she said, pouring her drink.“I can’t believe you got anyone to sleep with you.Was she drunk?Like just completely shit-faced?Did you blackmail her into bed?”
He laughed.“If she was drunk, I’d have made a sharp exit before we got to the bed… If I’d known what was good for me.”
“Men usually don’t when it comes to hot women and sex,” she said, taking her drink to the couch.“You don’t regret the entire relationship.”
“Put the lid back on and put the rest in the fridge.”
Rolling her eyes, she set the glass on the coffee table and went back to do just that.“You didn’t hear me licking my fingers that time.”
“No, but how many times have I heard you complain about losing another daiquiri or two because you didn’t refrigerate?”
